


Witches Galore

by deanwin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Spark!Stiles, Witchcraft, post 3b, pre-s4, ridiculous amounts of sass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwin/pseuds/deanwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After dealing with the Nogitsune, a coven of rogue witches looking for a powerful magical being to feast upon seems like no big deal, right?<br/>Alternatively titled: How Oblivious Can Stiles Be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic ever, and it's a work in progress. 
> 
> *UPDATE*- I'm trash. sorry! i wrote these 4k words in one sitting and then i kinda.. dropped it. I think i'll officially abandon it for now  
>  :/ sorry again!  
>  more (hopefully complete) fics to come

 

“Witches? You’re joking, right? Those are a thing? Oh my god. Is there anything else you’d like to let me know about? The Loch Ness monster maybe?” -  not much phased him anymore, and _witches_ certainly didn’t, not after dealing with the Darach, but Stiles had a facade to uphold, and what’s better than joking in the face of certain death to do that, right?

Stiles started pacing around the loft, trying to work off the nervous energy. When had he last taken his Adderall? It must’ve been this morning or he’d already be running up the walls, right? But it was all fuzzy- he couldn’t pinpoint when he’d actually _taken_ the pills instead of thinking ‘ _Oh shit, I should probably take the Adderall soon’_ and doing nothing about it.

Those lapses in memory had happened to him before, but ever since he’d come back from being trapped in his own mind by the Nogitsune, they were more frequent. He was pretty certain it wasn’t a medical thing, it was just that self-care seemed to be the last point on the list these days. There was too much damage control and grieving to be done.

“-covens usually travel together. And for the millionth time, Stiles, the Loch Ness monster is a Kelpie. Stiles? Are you even listening?”

_Well, shit._

“Yeah Derek, of course I’m listening. What else would I be doing? Admiring the interior design?”- He waved a hand across the room, indicating the very obvious _nothing_ on the walls.

Crossing his arms, Derek scoffed. “So you most certainly didn’t miss the part where I told you to stay away from the coven? You just went right along with my suggestion, no complaints. I can’t really see _that_ happening.”

“No, I just waited for you to end your tirade so I could politely point out that there’s no way in hell I’m cowering in my room while you guys risk your lives.  
 I figured that part was so obvious that there’s no need to interrupt you, ‘specially since you’ve just gotten the hang outta forming sentences that don’t include death threats”

“Stiles.”

“Ah yes, back to one word sentences. And I can almost _feel_ the threat in that one, great job Sourwolf.” – Stiles grinned, the expression still unfamiliar after the months of terror, silently complimenting himself on how well the diversion worked. Annoying Derek was the easiest way to make him stop prying, and Stiles was sure the werewolf had all but forgotten about him phasing out for a few moments by now.

“Aaaanyway, now that you’re back to your charming Neanderthal state I don’t expect to get much more info out of you. Give me three days and I’ll be full of amazing witchy knowledge and everyone will envy me. I’ll mail you with the summaries so you can let the pack know. See ya!” –Stiles grabbed his hoodie and schoolbag, rummaging through the pockets to find the Jeep keys as he made his way to the door.

“Whatever. Just do the research and don’t get yourself killed”- Derek scowled, but it wasn’t genuine. The whole pack was worried about Stiles, who seemed to have more trouble focusing on things than ever before, and Derek was no exception.  But right now, the rogue coven that was making their way across Beacon County was their priority. Presumably, there were four or five of them, leaving a trail of burned trees and animal sacrifices in their wake. None of that would’ve been their concern, despite the story making it into local papers, had the animal sacrifice not been replaced by a child once they reached the outskirts of Beacon Hills.

 Now the pack was using all existing resources to track them down before more people were killed on their territory.  Those ‘resources’ being Deaton and the Internet, with Scott getting all the info he could out of the vet, and Stiles promising he would find any valid piece of information there was on the latter.

~~~~

By the second day of researching witches, Stiles was certain he knew how to track them, in theory, and also scared out of his mind. Because it turns out that Harry Potter wasn’t really a reliable resource on witches. And neither was any other piece of pop culture, ever.

From what they knew before, these witches were a rogue coven. What they _didn’t_ know was that, in this case, rogue meant completely batshit crazy and not following _any_ of the rules other witches do, like not letting people see them do magic and not _eating other magical beings to get their powers_. And that meant that they were more powerful than other witches as long as they had a steady supply of powerful beings for snacks. Yummy.  

That alone wouldn’t have been enough to terrify him that much. What sealed the deal was researching how powerful your _average_ witch is. Which is a lot. Like, _wipe-out-ten-blocks-on-a-bad-day-_ lot.

So he found a tracking charm.

The only problem being that they needed the hair of the tracked person and an actual witch to operate it.  
 But Stiles was way too tired to come up with a solution for that itty-bitty issue just now. He made sure to mail everything he’d found so far to Derek and back it up on his memory stick. Maybe the pack would have an idea how to get the hair without getting maimed. Cracking his neck, he stood up from his chair, vision blurred for a few moments before it adjusted again. He glanced at the clock and winced. He’d gone well past 36 hours with no sleep and the caffeine had run out and left him crashed. No way he can deal with that now.

 ‘ _We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it, or however that saying goes’_

He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

 ~~~~

Stiles didn’t consider being woken up by a grumpy werewolf, who clearly broke in through his window _again,_ a particularly weird thing. ‘ _I guess that says a lot about my life.’_

What was weird was that said werewolf, despite looking like he’d been attacked by an especially vicious lawnmower was _smiling._ Well, maybe not smiling, but definitely showing happiness. Or at least less grumpiness.

Stiles’ gaze slowly made his way over Derek’s beat-up shape. In the dark he couldn’t really see much, but he could see that Derek was holding... something in his fist. _Something_ long and hairy and- was it dripping?!

In a second he realized what he was looking at. The witches must’ve taken the pack by surprise, but judging by Derek’s expression the wolves did fine. More than fine, in fact- because Derek was holding a few long strands of hair that were- oh shit, they were still attached to pieces of the witch’s scalp. Well, that explained the blood dripping onto Stiles’ bedroom floor.

“Stiles-“ he started, “-will this be enough? Because I don’t think we can handle another surprise encounter.”

“Enough? Dude, I could track their grandchildren with that stuff! You can’t even imagine the properties that witch blood supposedly has. I actually read about a guy who used it in this spell that- wait, I think I have it on my laptop-”

He was already scrambling out of bed, grabbing the piles of papers he had printed out and skimming through them. He supposed he should feel awkward about standing there in just boxer shorts and a t-shirt, but the clock informed him that precisely three hours passed since he went to bed, so he couldn’t really find it in himself to be bothered.

He was just making his way through a list of locations the witches had been to when it hit him.

“Derek. What do you mean with ‘you don’t think we can handle another surprise encounter’? Is everyone okay??” his breathing was speeding up, his mind already racing and going through all the worst case scenarios. It had only been three hours since he sent the info to the pack. Three hours and the witches had already attacked. Did all pack members read all of it? Surely not. Maybe Peter, but he was hardly pack. Knowing Scott, he just skimmed through it and figured he’d do it later. Did he even get to the part where the witches weaknesses were listed? Hopefully.

“Stiles! Calm down, will you? Just calm down. We’re okay. Everyone is fine, just a bit beat up. There were only two of them and they ran off after seeing we could hold our ground. I’m pretty sure they didn’t expect us to have a True Alpha on our side so they freaked out and disappeared as soon as Scott roared.”

“So they didn’t try to, you know, uhm- _eat_ anyone?” – Even before he asked it he knew it was a stupid question. He’d learned that the ingestion of someone’s powers required an extensive ritual, one with sacrifices and complicated rules. No way they could just make that up on the spot.

“No, Stiles. They didn’t try to eat us. They clawed at us and threw some sort of blinding dust at Peter. One tried to capture Kira but Scott’s roar interrupted the chanting. He’s still with her now, but they’ll be fine.”

 “Okay. Okay, good. That means that they avoid going nuclear, so our chances are good. My best guess is that using that sort of power would, well, blow _them_ up? These rogues don’t follow the rules other witches do, so their powers are greater, but also more chaotic, less stable. They aren’t going to risk wasting too much of their juice unless they know it would pay off.” He was rambling, but it felt like he got it right. Some part of him was _certain_ that magic worked that way, even though he hadn’t encountered it yet.

“That’s exactly what Deaton said when I called him. Of course, he made it sound much more mystic, but the conclusion is the same. They don’t know whose powers they can make the most use of, so they are holding back until they figure it out.”

“Huh. Well, I guess it makes sense that Deaton knew it all along and decided not to tell. I seriously don’t get how that guy’s brain wor- FUCK! How didn’t we get it sooner? Oh shit, Derek, call Scott immediately and tell him to get his ass to the loft and to bring the whole pack.”

“Stiles, what the hell is going on? Why are you suddenly panicking instead of working out that tracking spell?”

“Oh I really don’t think we’ll need the tracking charm anymore.”

“God damn it, Stiles! Talk to me! Why won’t we need the charm? Stiles?!”- Derek’s eyes were wide open, the scratches on his face already healed but his clothes were still stained with blood. Stiles absentmindedly noted the strand of hair that was stuffed into Derek’s pocket.

How didn’t he see this earlier? They might have been holding back, but those witches could do considerable damage to the pack if they wanted to. Derek was the one to say it, but he didn’t seem to connect the dots. The coven attacked to scout out the packs strength, and then disappeared as soon as Scott showed that he was a True Alpha. They could’ve kept fighting, but decided to run off, and that meant only one thing: they had made their choice.

“Because, Derek, they’ll be coming after us real soon.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pack meetings and Spark trainings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said it'd be a chapter a day and this is already the second one today, but that's because I'm in a good mood and I feel like spoiling you. I also felt the need to share this one because it has Peter, and I love writing Peter.

“Dude, are you sure? They’re coming after me and not the rest of the pack?”- Scott was asking for the hundredth time. It wasn’t like him to seemingly be so worried about his own well being while dismissing the pack. ‘ _And that’s not what he’s doing’_. Of course Scott would make sure the pack isn’t the target before getting all self-sacrificial.

“Oh no you won’t! Scott McCall, don’t you dare even think about that shit or, I swear to god, I’m calling your mom! Dude, how dumb can you be to even consider it?” -Stiles poked at his best friend’s chest incredulously.

“Stileeees”- he whined, “How couldn’t I consider it? If I deal with them alone they won’t try to go after the pack even in case I fail! It makes sense!”- Scott’s brown eyes scanned the room to see if anyone supported his idea, but he was met with startled stares. Of course Stiles was the first one to get what he was planning, and the one to blatantly refuse it. He turned to Kira for support, but her surprise was replaced mostly by anger. No one in the pack would even consider sacrificing one of their own, even if it meant risking the rest of them.

Scott felt a sudden surge of pride as he realized that they had become a real pack, despite all the loss they’d endured. They were a strange group- Derek and Peter, and most recently Malia, were the only members of the Hale clan that were still there. They’d kept the truth about her heritage secret from Malia for a while, just until they saw how she adjusted to human life, and now she was almost fully integrated into the pack. Scott’s mind wandered to Isaac for a moment, and he was filled with sadness and regret, but also hope. Maybe going to France with Argent was the best choice for him; maybe it’d help him heal. Lydia was still working on figuring out her Banshee powers, but even without them she’d be a vital part of the pack. Not even Stiles, with his awesome research and planning skills came close to her genius. His and Kira’s relationship was, well, complicated. He really liked her, admired and respected her, but Allison’s death was still too fresh in his memory to do anything about those feelings. And Kira respected that, which only made Scott love her more.

“Listen, Scotty, I get it. But we need you, okay? You can’t just run off and fight them on your own.” Stiles patted his arm lightly.

“Yeah, I get it. It was just an idea. I wouldn’t do that to you guys.”- from the corner of his eye he saw everyone relax and he accepted that blindly sacrificing yourself just wasn’t a choice when you have a pack to take care of. Maybe he’d actually manage to become a good Alpha to them.

“Perfect! Now that we’ve fulfilled our daily quota of death wishes, can we please continue with developing a plan that might actually work?”- Peter’s voice came from the staircase where he was lurking. Judging by Stiles’ slight jump, he’d forgotten about Peter’s presence as well.

“Okay, Mr. I-Like-Lurking-In-Dark-Corners, we’ll get to that in a sec. Hey Derek! Can we put a bell on your creepy uncl- yeah okay nevermind, no need to leave your dark corner, Peter, I’m back in business mode.”- Stiles tried to ease the tension before grabbing the folder he’d prepared.

He flailed for a few moments trying to sort out the papers before finding what he was looking for. He took the single sheet of paper he needed and unceremoniously dropped the folder back on the table. There was no time to introduce the pack to the finer points of witchcraft, nor to explain the covens or magic, so Stiles decided to stick to the basics of killing the witches.

“So, basically, there’s a few sure-fire ways to kill a witch with this much power. Some of them are inaccessible to us, like powerful banishing spells, so I’ll just skip those. The ones that matter are stabbing them through the heart with cold iron, which is literally just a fancy name for run-of-the-mill iron, but whatever, injuries that are too extensive for magic to fix, like actually removing the heart or something, but you’d probably be dead before you managed to fully rip it out, in which case they’d just heal themselves again. The last is, and I really hate how I’m basically just stating the obvious, decapitation. You’d think this one was a no-brainer, right? Like, _woah, witches can’t live without their heads! Call the papers!_ Although the wound has to be cauterized to make sure the other one doesn’t just glue it back on or whatever.” –Stiles glanced around the room to see how the pack had taken the news. Mostly, they were still groaning because of the bro-fist he and Scott had exchanged after making the no-brainer joke when talking about decapitation. Oh man, he really loved those people, but they just can’t appreciate his puns.

“I vote for ripping their hearts out. It’s been _ages_ since I did that one.” –Peter’s velvety voice now came from the other side of the room andStiles couldn’t help but think _‘seriously? When did he move from the stairs?’_

“No one asked you, Creeper Wolf.” “Shut up, Uncle Peter”- came the replies at the same time. Stiles gave Derek a thumbs up before turning back to Scott, who was obviously trying to hold back his own biting remark to avoid insulting Peter.  
All Peter did was chuckle slightly and continue hovering in the corner, clearly enjoying the attention he was getting.

Picking up the bag he’d left by the table, Stiles continued “I’ve got an iron dagger for everyone and mountain ash for me and Lydia. No one is allowed to leave their dagger at any time until we have dealt with this, okay? Hopefully, they won’t try to come after us very soon because they’ll still be licking their wounds and setting up their little ritual. Maybe they’ll just call it quits because there are just two of them and they’re outnumbered? Yeah, I don’t expect that to happen either, Peter, but thanks for the condescending scoff. Much obliged”

He started passing out the daggers he and Derek had picked up at Argent’s house before they got to the loft, admiring the intricate designs in the hilts and wondering what they symbolized. Probably something about killing werewolves. He shuddered at the thought, but continued handing them out.

“Thanks, Stiles. The odds that they’ll attack soon are minimal, but we still need to be prepared for anything. I’d be a lot more comfortable if we enforced a buddy system, but that’s not really an option, so let’s just make sure to hang around together most of the time and we’ll make-do. The less we’re separated the better. Stiles, when do you think you’ll be able to do the spell to track them down so we can take them by surprise?”- Scott was visibly strained, but he had slipped into Alpha-mode, making sure the pack was safe before allowing himself to worry. The circles under his eyes reminded Stiles that he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been sleeping, even though Scott’s were less visible than his own. The sooner they got this over with, the better.

“I’ll go talk to Deaton as soon as he opens the clinic, so-“ Stiles checked his phone. 6:42 am.  Less than two hours had passed since Derek had woken him up, and they already had a plan in the making. _‘This might still turn out okay.’_ “-I’ll dash home now to get my research in order and I’ll meet with him in an hour or so. Ideally, he'll feel like sharing and not just spurting some mystical mumbo-jumbo. After that we’ll hopefully know more about the whole situation and we’ll be able to track them. So, to answer your question, oh great Alpha, by lunch, give or take a few hours.”

~~~~ 

 

**Sry OGA, lunch deadline impossible, will let u kno when i get smthg.**

**OGA??**

**O Great Alpha. srsly dude how didn’t u get that one**

**jfc stiles i’m a bit bz trying to keep every1 from panicking**

**and i’m sure ur doing a gr8 job scotty. shit, deaton’s pissd bc i’m txting you. l8r**

“Stiles? Are you sure you don’t need a break to text your friends?”- Deaton’s treacherously calm voice came from the table at which he was working, _with his back turned to Stiles._ Seriously, that guy _had_ to have some magic powers. “Because, I’m quite certain that’s not a part of the meditation technique I’m trying to teach you. In fact, the key part to meditating is _not moving_ and just focusing on your own breathing, and it doesn’t seem like you’re doing that.”

“Yeah, well, focus and _calm_ isn’t really something I do. Can you please explain to _why_ I’m sitting here instead of, I don’t know, calling friendly local witches to do the tracking spell for us? Because I’m not sure I get it!”

“Stiles, I’ve told you already, there are no ‘friendly local witches’ I could call. You know how I’ve called you a ‘spark’ before? _That_ is why you’re the one sitting here. I had hoped you might find meditation calming enough to find that spark inside of you, but it’s obvious now that it will require a more active approach. We’re not going to call anyone, because you’re the one who will create the charm. You just need to activate the latent magic I’ve sensed in you.”- The older man had finally turned to face Stiles and he looked slightly apologetic, as if he sensed that his approach might not have been the wisest.

“Wait. Are you telling me that being a spark, the stuff I did with mountain ash, it’s basically just the prelude to witchcraft?”- not giving Deaton any time to answer the question, Stiles went on. “You’re saying that- that _I’m the friendly neighbourhood witch?”_ – Deaton wasn’t sure if he’d describe the expression lit up Stiles’ face as awe or shock, but he knew that there was no time for Stiles to ponder the meaning of his powers, he just had to make them manifest.

“Yes, Stiles, that’s what I’m saying. I’m also saying that you need to make your powers appear, or we’ll soon be running out of time.  Your spark is strong, but I don’t know how to make it manifest itself. Despite what you and Scott might have assumed, I myself do not have any magical powers, just a skill with herbs and a very good intuition. I was able to sense your powers, but that’s all I can do. You’ll need to figure them out yourself, and, I hate rushing you, but you’ll have to do it fast. The witches we’re dealing with are strong, but they are rogue and chaotic and from what we’ve found, they haven’t completed the absorption ritual even once. They don’t know what they’re dealing with, and a strong spark like yours might tempt them to switch to you from Scott if they found out about it before you manage to get your powers under control”

A moment of silence passed while Stiles was too stunned to reply. When he did, it certainly wasn’t a reply Deaton expected, but it made him positive that Stiles would be able to find and balance his powers.

“Well, put me in a dress and call me Glinda.”


End file.
